


hostage

by things-we-used-tc-share (Heavydirtys0ul)



Series: the billie eilish tapes [10]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, warning for insinuated domestic abuse, warning for insinuated emotional abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:15:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22692418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavydirtys0ul/pseuds/things-we-used-tc-share
Summary: Logan's getting tired of his life repeating itself.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Logan Sanders/OMC
Series: the billie eilish tapes [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1281875
Kudos: 37





	hostage

_**"Let me crawl inside your veins,** _

_**I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain,** _

_**It's not like me to be so mean,** _

_**You're all I wanted,** _

_**Just let me hold you,** _

_**Like a hostage,"** _

_**-hostage, Billie Eilish** _

* * *

Logan feels like he can’t breathe. He’s felt this way for months but today, tonight, it’s such a heavy feeling that it crawls inside his throat and strangles him from the inside. A panic attack; he’s not had one of those in so many years, for the most part he’s almost a little disappointed in himself, he’d thought he was past that. Past this…this _senseless_ panic. He’s fine, Logan Sanders is always **_fine_**.

Right up until he isn’t.

“Lo…Logan…” His head feels like it’s underwater despite the fact he knows logically he is on dry land and _safe_. Sort of. He’s not in any immediate danger, but then he feels a warm hand on his arm and finds himself feeling like the walls are pressed to his skin, snapping is bones as they draw closer and closer. He’s not breathing, he wants to breathe. He wants to see but his eyes are swimming, suddenly he is at the bottom of the ocean and the entire world is just a broken mirror in front of him. So close, but he can’t walk into that world. Everything is too close, and Logan _cannot_ breathe.

“You’re making it worse, let go of him,” The hand removes itself, and Logan knows that voice; he knows it’s a safe voice. His breathing stutters and he finds the air again. Those vacant blue eyes recognise unruly red curls and he breathes in deeply, wanting to be closer to them, wanting to find the freckled hands that those curls and calm green eyes belong too. The walls crumble. “It’s okay Logan, in through your nose, out through your mouth,” Logan breathes in “Good, in and out…1…2…3…4,” And the voice continues to talk in such a slow and calm way, like the pulse of a heart or a metronome. “There you go bud,”

The tears dry on Logan’s face, his eyes find the ones that have been watching him, crouched against the floor like a wild animal trying to make itself smaller for its cub. “Roman,” Logan’s voice croaks, his hand scrambles to grip the soft hand that is outstretched to him. “Thank you,”

“No problem, Microsoft nerd,” He chuckles.

Logan notes out the corner of his eyes, the narrowed gaze of the cause of his panic attack. Logan lets go of Roman’s hand and sinks against the floor again, taking a deep breath. Roman does not miss the movement and his gaze goes cold as he looks up at the other occupant of the room. “Why was he panicking so much, _James?_ ” The way Roman says Logan's boyfriend's name is like a poison in his mouth.

“I don’t know,” The man replies, his eyes far too innocent. “I just came home, and he was like this, I didn’t do it, maybe he should go back to therapy,” Logan rests his forehead on his folded arms and takes a shaky breath in. He doesn’t speak, but he screws his eyes shut, he’s getting tired of his best friend and his boyfriend arguing over him; but there again he’s almost sick of denying the truth to the one person who could actually help him.

“ _He_ is right here, and listening,” Logan interrupts, rubbing his temple with a stressed expression “I’m fine, it was just a minor inconvenience, I’m fine,” He stands on shaky legs, his hand resting on the back of the couch as he crawls to a standing position, swaying where he stood. Roman’s eyes seem to stare straight through him. “Why are you here Roman, don’t you have class?” There’s a flicker of hurt in the other’s far too kind eyes, and he sighs; _‘great, Logan, push away everyone,’_ he thinks to himself. It’s for the best really, the other really doesn’t need busying himself in Logan’s trauma again, or his upset, or his worry, or whatever it is that he’s been feeling for months.

His _suffocation_.

Like he’s being buried alive.

“Empty schedule this week, you said we were going to the cinema, remember?” Logan’s shoulders sag and he inhales deeply, his eyes closing in preparation for the inevitable. James’ gaze goes sharp as he turns to stare at the thinner, smaller, more exhausted man. Logan can feel the heat in that gaze.

“Babe, we already had plans,” They didn’t. Logan nods anyway, swallowing dryly. He stares at the floor and nothing else. The words don’t sound like a request, they sound like someone’s holding a knife to his throat, Roman’s jaw tenses a little and Logan just knows this is it, the waves of fury rippling off the other, the hurt, he knows what an explosion looks like.

“Just re-schedule, you always have plans, I should get to spend time with my best friend,” Roman’s teeth are gritted, his hands balled into fists by his side. Logan shakes a little, he feels like someone is laying his corpse into dry earth, like he’s about to choke on the weight of soil and the ground beneath him will pour into his lungs. Why does he feel like someone is dressing him up for a funeral? He wishes he could understand why his brain feels like it’s on fire. Why he can’t breathe around his lover. Why he’s scared of Roman’s anger.

“I’m just more important to him, I guess,” James shrugs, and their gazes both go to Logan’s shaking body. Maybe it’s the smug look on James’ face that pushes the final piece into place and the man remembers why he was panicking in the first place, why Roman saved him, over and over again.

“No, you’re not,” He whispers, voice small and scratchy and terrified. “You’re not more important,” Logan swallows, his spit feels heavy in his throat. “He’s just as important to me as you, he’s my best friend, he’s been my best friend since pre-school,” The silence is deathly, a knife couldn’t tear through the tension, Roman’s face would look proud if he couldn’t see how fearful Logan is. “And I guess he’s seen this one before,” The laugh that leaves Logan’s lips is not humorous, it holds no happy, no excitement; it is a dry, stale laugh, the laugh someone gives on their death bed. “What is it about me that attracts men like you?” He whispers, he wants to cry, he does not cry.

“Logan,” Roman utters, warning a little as the expression on James’ face changes. “We should go, now,”

“No,” Logan shakes his head “What’s the point, really, we always seem to end up here,”

“The past isn’t an indicator of the future, nor is the present, you told me that,” He’s right, _fuck,_ he’s right but Logan is tired. He’s so, so tired. His life is a repetitive motion, he exists to be used, to feel suffocated. A hostage in a broken game of love. Roman holds out his hand, the freckles crawl over his pale skin and Logan is distinctly taken back to a time where Logan would draw constellations between the little stars of Roman’s skin. He misses high school; he misses life before all of this started to happen to him.

He takes the hand that is offered to him, as he always does.

“We’ll have someone come around to collect his stuff,”

And just like that it’s over. There’s no screaming match, no thrown punches, he just walks away. James was a lot of things, but not exactly dumb enough to add domestic abuse charges to the long list of things he had done to Logan; all of which the other has no proof of. It’s infuriating that these people keep getting away with it, but at least he’s safely away from the man.

“It’s not your fault,” Roman says, Logan doesn’t believe him, so he just buries his face in his neck instead. He doesn’t feel like he’s suffocating when Roman holds him, he feels like he’s flying. His best friend. His stupid voice of reason. "Come on, you can crash on my couch for a while, I'll give Picani a call, and it's pizza and hot chocolate for dinner tonight," the gentle kiss against his temple has Logan melting, he's safe here. He's always safe here. 


End file.
